


Even in Dreams

by preetkiran1016



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Blood, Blood and Guts, NOTHING BUT PAIN, Panic Attack, Right in the sad, Shimada Brothers, Suffering, Young Genji, Young Hanzo, im sorry, my feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-27
Updated: 2017-09-27
Packaged: 2019-01-06 04:42:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12204081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/preetkiran1016/pseuds/preetkiran1016
Summary: “Sparrow,” Hanzo whispers “I'm sorry.”In which nothing will ever really be ok.





	Even in Dreams

**Author's Note:**

> The inspitation behind this fic, go check the artist out, they hae some amazing work!!!! http://pirikko.tumblr.com/tagged/brostabbin
> 
> just genji and hanzo have a good time.

Ryūichi Moji slips between Hanzo’s ribs, the guard coming to rest just below his brother's heart as they freeze. This close, Genji can feel Hanzo’s breath on his face, the tremor in his arms and the shaky breath he sucks in. He pulls back, katana jerking from its hold as he steps away, eyes wide with horror. He doesn't want to look, can't look at what he's done. He turns, ready to run from the hall, from the manor and escape reality.

Hanzo falls, knees hitting the floor with a wet squelch. He reacts on instinct; weapon tossed aside as he catches Hanzo. He cradles him in his arms, trying not to look down, doesn't want to know what that slippery wet thing that's pressing against his chest is as he holds his brother. Everything’s hot, wet, and slick; his hakama is soaked through and his hands are coated in— in—

He looks down, and wants to retch.

The small, neat wound’s blossomed, his haste making Hanzo’s chest a painting of red and shiny pink, keiko-gi torn open and stained vermillion; a bouquet blooming against pristine white.

He didn't want this.

The hall is silent, moonlight bathing them in silver.

Hanzo’s breathing is rapid, a straining wheeze that strikes Genji through the heart. He shouldn't feel guilt, he shouldn't. He’s won, he survived. Hanzo won’t. He’ll bleed out alone on the tatami while the elders prepare their next puppet.

He shouldn't care.

Why does he _care._  

“G-Genji—” Hanzo rasps, shaky hands gripping at his chest weakly. He’s pale, too pale, he was going to die, he had to—

“Shut up.” He hissed, tears coming unbidden as he wiped them away furiously. “This is your fault— I didn't want— I didn't _want—_ ”

“ _Sparrow_.” Hanzo breaths, and Genji breaks.

“No.” He says, pressing his hands to the wound, (made with his blade, his hands, and he wants to vomit, to fling himself from the roof) pressing down as blood gushes up between his fingers. There's too much, and he slips, a ragged cry of pain escaping Hanzo when Genji's hands press against _something_.  “You haven't called me that since we were kids, don't you dare—” he chokes on tears, curling over Hanzo.

“S’okay.” Hanzo slurs, patting at Genji's cheek like it'll help, like he isn't dying in Genji's arms. “Better this way.”

“ _No._ ” He pauses, tears streaming down his face as he keeps pushing down, trying to stop the inevitable. “ _It’s not._ ”

The bleeding doesn't stop.

They're sitting in a pool of it, black and shiny as oil slick in the light as it congeals at the edges. The surface ripples as the stream slows, and Genji sees his reflection in it, ugly and twisted.

He sees Hanzo’s bloodied handprint on his cheek.

 _This is wrong._  

Hanzo's barely awake, eyelids drooping as he pats Genji. There's no power behind it, not like it should be. Hanzo could dislocate a man's shoulder with brute strength. This….this soft, pathetic touch was _wrong._

Cold, he’s so cold— pale as death and hardly breathing. He need to do something, anything—

“Sparrow,” Hanzo whispers “I'm sorry.”

The bleeding stops.

Genji screams. 

He wakes up to the blare of his heart monitor, the tubes connected to his back straining as he shoots up, heart racing as he snaps his head down.

No blood.

No Hanzo.

He’s not in Hanamura.

Hanzo isn’t dead.

It was only a dream.

There's a steady thrum of machinery in his ear as Genji collapses against the hospital bed; synthetic jaw locking as tears roll down his face, unwelcome and ignored.

  
Even in dreams, he never really wins _._

**Author's Note:**

> Ahhhh ok. My first angst fic and let me say that this really took the shit outta me I need like...so much fluff right now. Ow my feels
> 
> Thanks to my amazing betas, for dealing with my cray cray. And to my girlfriend, who keeps giving me ridiculous titles.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this suffering!! Thank you for reading!!!
> 
> You can find me on tumblr @ preetkiran1016


End file.
